


The Start

by MissDilemma



Series: Tudetale [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Children, Dadster, Gen, Possible Character Death, Sick Character, TudeTale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDilemma/pseuds/MissDilemma
Summary: Everything was fine. Gaster finally had a happy family. But then something happened to Sans.
Relationships: W. D. Gaster & Papyrus & Sans
Series: Tudetale [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572343
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. The Beginning

W.D. Gaster had done the impossible. None of his colleagues had thought it possible, and yet he’d done it. His two children, made from his DNA and carefully portioned out doses of determination, lived and prospered, and presently chased each other around their backyard. 

And what a better place to raise them than in hotland, near their lab of conception. Gaster sat on the porch, drinking iced tea, enjoying the yells and squeals of his offspring. Sans, his older child, had proved the process could work. He was tall for his age, and his intellect and magic output made up for anything else he lacked. Only five and he was solving algebraic equations. Gaster may have to homeschool him in order to foster him properly. 

Sans squeaked in excitement as Papyrus nearly grabbed him. Gaster’s second child was only two. After a few years to refine the process, he came out strong and large. Twice as big as Sans was when he had been made, though he was the shorter of the two for now. His magic ranked just as high as Sans’s. It was too early to tell, but he was going to be have a formidable power. 

Gaster couldn’t help but laugh when the two-year-old summoned a crude bone and wielded it like a bat, shrieking in joy. Sans smiled and rolled, easily avoiding it. The father swelled in pride. 

“Careful, boys,” he called. He wasn’t really concerned, but better safe than sorry. Friendly sparring between siblings was a cornerstone of childhood. It was a great way for them to practice their abilities and test their limits. He wasn’t going to stop them, though he wanted them to be safe. Sans stuck his tongue out and ran in the opposite direction. Papyrus chased after Sans and tripped, falling face first into the dirt. He started crying immediately. Gaster nearly shot up, but hesitated when he saw Sans run over. 

He should have run over to help, but he was too curious to see how Sans would behave. 

“it’s okay.” Sans got down on his knees and helped Papyrus up. He dusted the red sand off his shirt. Papyrus hiccuped, tears running down his cheeks, crying quieter now. “are you hurt?” Papyrus nodded. “where?” He pointed to his cheekbone, the pronounced bone bruised and orange from his aggravated magic. Sans looked at it. Gaster could see his son was mostly mimicking what he himself had done previously when one of them was hurt, so he figured Sans was performing and didn’t really know what he was assessing.

Regardless of what he saw, he clenched his fist. 

Now this would be interesting. Usually at this point, Gaster would use healing magic to erase whatever pain his child was experiencing. But Sans was young. He didn’t know how to summon healing magic. So how was he going to make the boo-boo go away? 

Gaster watched carefully as Sans opened his hand, green magic glowing in his palm. It made sense. Sans had such a high levels of magic that this wasn’t impossible. But Gaster was still surprised. Sans lifted his hand to where Papyrus pointed and rested it on his face. Papyrus’s crying came to a stop, leaving him with just sniffles and whimpers. 

“all better?” Sans asked. 

Papyrus sniffed. “Y-Yeah.”

“wanna keep playing?” Papyrus nodded. Sans gave him a hug. Gaster put a hand on his chest, warmed by the gesture. His boys were there for each other, and Sans was capable of so much. Maybe he should measure his magic again. It had been a while. 

“Sans?” A concerned whimper. Why? Gaster put his iced tea down, watching the two carefully, his concern piqued again. Sans was tucking against Papyrus, his grip going loose and his knees starting to bend. “Sans, you-“ Sans collapsed, bringing Papyrus down to the ground with him. Gaster leapt into action, hopping down from the deck to his children. “Sans! Daddy!” 

He should have said something comforting, but he was too panicked. Gaster just picked Sans up off of Papyrus, who was crying again from fear rather than pain. Sans’s body was limp and cold in his hands. He checked him immediately to find his HP had dropped. But the wrong number had gone down. His HP, that had once read 15/15 now read 15/13. And his max number was still dropping. 

“Daddy, daddy what’s-“ 

“Quiet, Papyrus.” Gaster tucked Sans against his chest, scooped Papyrus up in his other arm, and ran. He had no faster way than to run, his children bouncing against him, one yelling and crying, the other deathly silent. Only a few minutes of sprinting desperately and he came to his office, pushing through the automatic doors and barreling down the stairs to his lab. 

He plopped Papyrus down in his lab chair. “Stay.” He ran to the back of the lab, where the incubation tube was. He put Sans inside, closed the top, and it started filling with liquid. The fluid was rich in nutrients and would hopefully keep his stats from dropping even further. The blue matter raised, bringing Sans’s body up with it until his son floated in the middle of the cannister. He hadn’t seen either of his children in one of these since before they were born. The monitor of the cannister lit up, giving Gaster a look at all of Sans’s stats. 

He watched the health with burning intensity. The maximum four slowly ticked to a three, a beep sealing the stat change. Oh, what was he supposed to do? His gut reaction was to give him DT, but he didn’t have any to spare. Another beep and the three, to his horror, went to a two. 

Gaster fell to his knees, looking up at his child. Sans floated above him like an angel, arms spread out ready to embrace. His creation had been a miracle. Gaster had been so lucky to have him. Beep. The number ticked from two to one. A thick tear dripped down the crack under his eye socket, realization dawning that this would be the last time he saw his son alive. 

“Daddy?” Oh god. He couldn’t bring himself to look to his younger son that now stood in the doorway behind him. Oh, oh he so wished that Papyrus wouldn’t have to see this. He was too young. But perhaps it’d be better if they experienced this together. He stretched a hand out behind him.

“Come here.” The sound of uncertain footsteps and then Papyrus touched Gaster’s hand. He pulled him the rest of the way, resting him in his lap. “Say good bye to your brother, Papyrus.” He could feel his son’s confusion, still looking at his eldest above them. A tiny hand reached out from his lap and gave a wave. 

“Bye, Sans.”

Gaster closed his eyes, waiting for the beep the monitor would give off when Sans hit zero. A bell to toll his son’s end. He drowned in the anticipation, anxiety overwhelming him. He took a breath, holding it, squeezing Papyrus perhaps too tightly, praying not to hear the beep.

And he didn’t. 

“Swimming?” Papyrus asked, pointing at Sans in the fluid. 

“No, he’s not...” Gaster let his sockets focus on the monitor, looking at the max health. It still read one. Gaster scooted closer to the monitor. It wasn’t going down anymore. The stat was resting at 15/1. He finally let himself look over to Sans’s defense and attack. Both had been high, but now they rested at one, too. All of his abilities had been stripped down to the bare minimum and no further. It must have stopped because of the stasis chamber. 

He huffed out a breath in complete and utter relief. Sans wasn’t dying today. He had time. They both did. 

He hugged Papyrus tightly. “Sans okay?” he asked. 

“Yes. He’s okay for now.” Gaster kissed the top of Papyrus’s head, glad to have the child in his arms and the child still alive in the stasis cannister. Sans was on the edge, but there was time. Gaster could still fix this. 

Their family wasn’t broken yet.


	2. The Middle

Gaster kept Sans in stasis, desperately looking for a safe way to extract him. He was living in the lab. The first week of work, he kept Papyrus with him, but he knew he was neglecting him. Papyrus had nothing to do down there. Anytime he found a way to entertain himself, Gaster had to swoop in, take whatever child innapropriate contraption out of his hands, and tell him not to touch anything. It was no place for a two-year-old. And, while he wanted to monitor his second child for any possible deficiencies – Sans had fallen so quickly, who’s to say Papyrus wasn’t next – it was a stressful environment in which Gaster couldn’t work and Papyrus couldn’t have fun.

He hated asking for help, but he needed to. There was no one in his building doing anything that could be considered child safe, so, to his humiliation and apprehension, he asked the king. 

And to his surprise, Asgore gladly agreed. He scooped Papyrus up easily, assured Gaster they’d be fine, and that was how he got a baby sitter while he worked. 

Which was good, because he needed to get thinking on a permanent solution. A life in stasis was no life at all. 

The clear and obvious answer was to give Sans more DT. The pure and powerful extract of human magic had the power to bring a monster together and tear them apart. Determination in conjunction with his own magic was how his children managed to exist. It was the proverbial glue keeping them together. Gaster figured all Sans needed was more glue. 

But he didn’t have anymore to spare. He’d already used all the DT in making his children. So, the obvious answer was out. He spent far too long beating his head into a wall, looking into any possible alternative. He had other human magic extracts, perhaps some perseverance would do?

He pumped some into the tank. The blue water warmed to a purple around his son’s ivory bones. Gaster carefully scanned the monitor, checking Sans’s stability and how successfully he was absorbing the extract. 

He wasn’t. None of his stats changed and the amount of perserverance in the chamber didn’t go down.

Gaster ran his hands down the back of his skull, breathing in an attempt to keep the stress from melting his mind. He had other extracts, but none of them would likely have any affect. He just needed DT. And all of that was in Papyrus. 

For a split second, he considered it. Considered taking one of Papyrus’s bones, grinding it down to a dust so he could squish and milk the DT out. His son may even agree to it if Gaster said it was for Sans. 

The second it came was the second it went, Gaster’s face twisting in anger and disgust. How could he even consider something so cruel? And doing it to someone he loved so much? He dropped his hands from his head and looked at his palms, each pierced with their own giant hole – the bits of himself he had sacrificed to make Sans and Papyrus. How Gaster wished he had injected himself with DT at some point or another. He’d gladly give an arm or a leg to get the compound he needed. 

Because, without that compound, he couldn’t take his child out of that tank. He couldn’t trust Sans wouldn’t turn to dust in his arms. He looked to his son, still floating so comfortably and serenely, as if he were sleeping. 

It was late. He needed to go collect Papyrus from the King. Reluctantly, his sockets lingering on Sans, he left the lab. The palace wasn’t far but the walk felt long as a part of him was left behind. The odds of a human child suddenly appearing and the King allowing Gaster to destroy the soul to get DT were miniscule. He needed a miracle to fix Sans.

“Evening, Dr. Gaster!” He lifted his head from the street he had been staring at. Standing outside the big palace doors was a mail monster. The bird was tall and lanky, their beak reaching halfway down their neck as they read the clipboard in one hand and cradled a box in the other. 

“Evening.”

“Are you off to see the king?”

“Yes.” He stopped outside the door. He wanted to push through the entrance and get to Papyrus, but the bird was taking up too much space for Gaster to be able to do that without seeming rude. The monster stood in his way with a big smile stretching up their face. “Can I help you?”

“Why yes, you can! Would you be so kind as to give the King this package?” The bird gestured to the box but didn’t outstretch it. 

“Isn’t that your job?” He was joyless. Why was this monster wasting his time?

“It is indeed! But I have more to do and the palace security always causes a delay for me.” The bird gestured to a cart on the road. Sure enough, it was piled higher than Santa’s sleigh. “You would be doing me a mighty fine favor if you’d take this package the rest of the way.” He offered the clipboard to Gaster, clearly looking for a signature. Easier to go along than to protest. 

“Fine.” Gaster took the clipboard and signed the dotted line. 

“Oh, thank you! You’re really saving me a lot of toil, you are!” Gaster took the box from the bird. They walked out of his way and back to their cart. “Have a good night Doctor!” The bird lifted the front of the cart with their wings and started running. They were actually quite fast. Gaster couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised. 

He looked at the box in his hands, curious to know who was sending mail to the King. 

He nearly dropped it when he read the return address.

Every few years, the palace received a package from Home, the abandoned ruins the monsters had once lived in. No sender name, addressed to the palace, and the contents were always disturbing. Sometimes it was deceptively empty, other times there would be a whole, living human soul, and most of the time it was anything in between.

Inside this box was, likely and at least partially, a human soul. 

His magic pounded. He looked to the big palace doors. 

He should have taken the box inside and given it to the king, add it to the other six souls that were required to break down the barrier. It was the last step they needed for freedom. It could be the key to his people’s salvation. 

And all he could think about was his son, floating in the tank, left behind as monsters moved to the surface, alone and paused forever. 

His hands shook, the box shaking slightly as his decision rolled in his mind. He was disgusted with what he was considering. How could he choose one child over all other monsters? It was wrong and unethical and the package was for the King. The soul belonged to the king. Not only would he be betraying his people, but he’d be interfering with the royal mail system – crimes both morally and legally wrong. And still...

Gaster turned on his heel and went back the way he came, cradling his precious cargo and shielding it from view.


	3. The End

Gaster wanted to run, but he couldn’t risk damaging the possible soul in the package. So, he settled with walking deliberately. He wanted to get back to the lab as soon as possible, but he also wanted to never get there. Right now, he had the hope that this box had the solution to his problem. The last thing he wanted was to find out that there wasn’t a human soul inside. He needed to keep his hope alive, even though it made him feel sick. 

He scanned his key card and made his way back down to his lab. When there, he locked the door, ensuring no one saw what he was doing. He put the box on a table, eyeing it nervously. This was the moment of truth. All hope would be saved or lost when he opened it. Regardless of the outcome, he would never tell Asgore about this unfinished delivery. 

He pulled scissors out of a drawer and cut open the tape. Opening the first two flaps, he saw a slight glow coming from between the bottom two. And, to his delight, it was tinted red. 

He took a steadying breath, his still shaking hands carefully opening up the rest of the box. Nestled in a swaddle of blankets pounded a red soul. The heart shaped pulsed in shape and light, strong and steady and in sublime condition. 

Perfect. 

His previous storage of DT had come straight from a human. The official extractor was meant to pierce through the human’s hard body to get to the soul itself. There was no body now, so Gaster was able to use a cruder and less involved way. 

He put on gloves and collected the delicate syringes that were necessary. 

He didn’t dare lift the soul out of its nest for fear of it crumbling in his hand. No, he let it rest in the swaddle and steadily held the needle, guiding it with both hands, a steady straight shot through the encasing magic. He could practically hear the soul’s discomfort. It screamed and twisted, not enough energy to move from its place but enough to retain its form. Gaster licked his teeth, watching the barrel of the syringe fill with the precious magmatic fluid. The skin of the soul became shrunken as its content was drained. But there was still so much inside. It had so much that the syringe would be filled soon and there would still be some leftover. He had prepared a second syringe but hadn’t thought he would need it. 

The transfer was difficult. It needed to be quick and seamless. When the first syringe was filled, he carefully shifted it to only one hand and used his other to reach for the next needle. He held it steady, taking a breath before pulling away the first needle. The tiny hole left in the soul started oozing, the precious human magic leaking out into the blankets. Quick as he could, he put the new needle in the same hole. It was an imperfect fit and, as he pulled more of the magic out, it continued leaking onto the blankets. He cursed. He was losing such an invaluable resource. 

The second syringe and the leaking quickly drained the soul until it was finally empty. The outer membrane cracked and splintered, splitting in half before turning into its own pile of dust. 

Humans, though they were so much more dangerous and focused so much on their fleshy bodies, were the same as monsters on the inside. A soul of magic. Magic that could be harnessed.

Gaster dispersed the magic in the syringes into small vials, filling two dozen with the contents he had sucked out of the human soul. While he wanted to inject them directly into the water, he had to be safe and prepare the DT in the way he had originally. So, he put the vials carefully in a centrifuge. He ran it for a pain-staking twenty minutes. All the while he stared up at Sans, reminding himself of why he’d committed this crime. 

When it was finished, he found the vials now full of four colors. A third of the vial was red, that pure DT, and stacked upon it was perseverence, patience, and justice. Someone may think it pretty. Gaster thought it a shame that not more of it was the trait he needed. 

No matter. Two vials would be sufficient. With a small pipet, he delicately removed the layer of perseverence, then justice, then patience, putting them into their own vials for further storage. When he could, he consolidated the DT into one vial and carefully carried it over to the stasis chamber. He double checked the stats on the screen. The one he was most interested in was stability, a measurement that tracked the sturdiness of a monster’s magic. Right now it was low enough that Sans would dust if Gaster pulled him out. He needed that measurement to go up. 

His soul turned, sickened at the prospect that the DT would have no effect. He didn’t know what he would do then. 

He poured the DT into the water. Like blood, it dripped down, filmy and floaty, an almost lovely dance through the blue-pruple liquid as it sunk down around Sans’s shoulders. It landed on his bones and sunk through his shirt, disappearing from view. Gaster held his breath, split between looking at his son or the monitor. Sans didn’t seem to react, so Gaster looked at the screen. And, to his immense joy, Sans’s stability rose. It had been about five percent, and it easily crawled past forty. 

Gaster covered his mouth, speechless and relieved. Sans was going to be okay. He was-

Sans flinched, shoulders bending back and head curling to look up. Gaster watched, concerned and intrigued, his scientific curiosity taking a backseat to his parental concern. Sans stilled again before, slowly, drooping his head down. Gaster glanced at the monitor to find it at sixty percent, and glanced back up to find Sans’s sockets wide open and, to his abject horror, only his left eye glowing to meet him.

“Sans?” Gaster couldn’t hear him, but he saw Sans mouth “dad”, floating forward and putting his hands on the glass. 

His son... his son was alive. In awe, tears welling up in his sockets, he put a hand on the glass to meet his child’s. Sans tapped the glass, started smacking it, and then pounding, his mouth stretching open in a scream, that one eye light flaring with magic. Skeletons didn’t need to conventionally breathe, but their magic did. The fluid that had once tempered his imbalanced magic was now suffocating it. 

Frantically, Gaster slammed on the draining switch before scrambling to the top of the cannister. Sans kicked and screamed in the water until his feet touched the bottom of the chamber, the fluid finally starting to uncover the top of his skull just as Gaster removed the cover. He reached his hand in and Sans reached to meet him, his bones noticeably small and damp when Gaster grabbed his wrist. It was a bad angle and likely hurt Sans more than was necessary, but Gaster was too anxious to wait and pulled his son out by one arm. Sans gasped and cried as he was lifted out. As soon as Gaster could, he grabbed Sans by the armpits to take him the rest of the way. Out of the cannister and in his arms, Gaster held onto Sans tightly, falling to his knees to properly curl around his child. 

Sans’s clothes were soaked and he shook with chills and fear, holding on tight to Gaster as they both cried. 

“d-dad, what-“

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay now.” Sans was so small in his arms, Gaster’s hands easily cradling him, his fingers spread wide to hold more of him closer. “I got you. Daddy’s got you.” He held him close for far too long, terrified by how this moment may end, paralyzed and waiting for Sans to dust when he shouldn’t. And he didn’t. His tears dried and his grip became looser until he started pushing against Gaster’s shoulders. 

“you’re crushing me.”

He loosened immediately, still holding Sans in his lap but giving him space to breathe. Other than still being soaked, he looked fine. Even his eye lights had returned to normal, though they were shaking and hazy from trauma. Gaster did a check of his son – the monitor was effective, but he needed to see for himself. His stats were all still at one, but his description was disconcerting. Comic Sans Gaster. He’s afraid.

“You’re okay, Sans. There’s no reason to be afraid,” Gaster tried to soothe. Sans nodded, but his bones still rattled in discomfort. 

Gaster needed to do more tests. Sans was back and apparently normal, but his stats were dangerously low and he needed to know just how stunted he had become. But his son was so scared and uncomfortable that, as a father, he couldn’t bear to keep him here any longer. 

“Ready to go home?” he asked. Sans nodded more fervently. Not trusting him to walk, Gaster hooked his son on his hip, letting him curl up against him, holding his coat and rattling with nerves. Gaster picked up a soul scanner and quickly prepared a small syringe of DT, just in case, and put them in his bag before walking out of the lab, his seemingly healthy son curled around his body.

They were out of the thick of it, but Gaster had a sickening feeling that this was only the beginning of their troubles.


	4. The Epilogue

Gaster had kept the King in the dark about Sans, leaving the royal with the impression that the older child was at school so only Papyrus, who was too young for academia, needed a sitter. When Gaster finally made his way to the palace, with Sans tucked under his arm and a bulky bag in his hand, he found Asgore in the throne room, showing Papyrus how to water the flowers. As soon as Gaster entered, Papyrus came running. 

“DADDY! DADDY!” He jumped up and Papyrus dropped the bag of delicate instruments so he could catch his younger son. Papyrus giggled and nuzzled into Gaster’s coat, then he noticed Sans, asleep beside him. Papyrus opened his mouth to cheer, but Gaster shushed him. 

“Don’t wake your brother.”

“You’re late,” Asgore said, creaking out of his kneel to speak to the scientist. Gaster shrugged. The declaration wasn’t threatening so much as a statement of fact. Papyrus nestled into his chest, mimicking his older brother. 

“I had to fix something before leaving today and it took longer than anticipated. Thank you for watching him.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Asgore pat Papyrus’s skull. “He’s certainly lively. I tried to get him down to sleep but he insisted on staying up.” Gaster’s second child got heavier in his arms, drifting into that sleep he’d been avoiding. 

“It’s fine. Regardless, I should be getting home. Get these two to bed.” It was late. He had intended on picking Papyrus up at five and it was well past eight and their bed times. “I can’t repay you enough for this.”

“Don’t think anything of it.” The King, while large and foreboding, had a smile as comforting as a teddy bear hug. “Same time tomorrow?” Right. He needed a lie to get out of this.

“Actually, uh, good news! The project is finished. Yes! So, I will not be needing a sitter any longer.” Asgore visibly deflated. 

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. Thank you so much for what you’ve done.”

Asgore nodded, eyes glazed over, that smile less genuine. “Anytime, old friend.” 

Gaster felt bad. He wanted to take it back, tell the truth, let Asgore watch Papyrus for longer. The King loved children so much and, since the Queen left, there was no hope for him to have any more of his own.

But his children didn’t belong to the King. They belonged to Gaster. And they were both filled with enough determination to get their whole family banished. So, as much sympathy as he felt, Gaster had to enforce the lie and keep his children at a distance. He left the lonely King in the throne room, while he carried two sleeping children in his arms and a medical bag in his hand. 

The walk home was more a struggle, the children lead weights against him and the delicate package bouncing dangerously against his thigh with each step. When he finally did get home, he first put the bag down on the couch before carrying the children to their beds. He didn’t bother with getting them to brush their teeth. He still had tests to run on Sans and getting to that was the priority. 

He tucked Papyrus into his crib as he was. He seemed happy enough to curl under his blanket while Gaster turned off the light. Next, he carried Sans back downstairs, grabbed the bag with his now free arm, and went to the eldest’s room. Sans was practically dead weight when he hit the bed. Gaster had to check to make sure he was still alive before he brought out the soul scanner. It was a small black box with a screen – a portable version of the monitor on the stasis chamber. It just needed to be hooked up to Sans’s body, so Gaster carefully attached the little sticky circle scanners on his sternum, ribs, pelvis, spine, and skull. Sans was so tired that he didn’t even stir. 

Gaster was too paranoid to leave him, so, instead of going to his own room, he crawled into Sans’s bed, laying on his side to face him. He watched the gently rise and fall of his son’s chest. Breathing was unnecessary, but it was regulatory and relaxing, the perfect rhythm to sleep to. He tried to stay awake as long as possible but found himself drifting to sleep. 

He jolted awake hours later when he felt light on his sockets. Beside him, Sans was sitting up in bed. The monitor was still attached, but he was up and, in his hands, floated his soul. Like most of Sans’s magic abilities, removing one’s soul was for monsters far stronger and more practiced. His intuition hadn’t been lost at least. But his soul itself...

Wrinkled like a raisin, the skin shallow and soft like a rotted and dried fruit. The magic floated around inside it unmixed, thick and murky. It was still it’s original cyan hue, but it glowed far less brightly, only barely lighting up their bones. There was a particularly nasty crack that seemed to be healing, or at least it was still held together. It looked belonging to a monster on their death bed, not a five-year-old child. 

Gaster sat up. “Sans-“

“what happened to it?” Sans asked, his lip pouting and quivering. “daddy.” He turned his head to face Gaster, his whole body rattling. “daddy, what happened to me?” Gaster shook his head. He had theories on what had happened, but he didn’t really understand anything. He didn’t want to tell Sans he didn’t know. He really didn’t, but uncertainty wouldn’t help his child. A half-truth would do.

“You’re sick,” he said. “Your soul is very sick. But we’re going to make you better, understand?” Gaster meant that. He was going to fix his son if it was the last thing he did. Sans nodded, the wires attached to the scanning tags wiggling. “How do you feel?”

“okay,” Sans said, gently letting his soul return to him. Gaster clenched his jaw, scared to ask the next question. 

“Sans, can you summon a bone for me?”

Sans nodded. He held his hand out, clenched it twice, and focused. He stared at the palm of his hand, focusing intensely. His bones stiffened with strain. Gaster put his hand on Sans’s back, ready to tell him to stop, when his son’s left eye light burst into blue flame, magic overrunning his body. He gasped in pain before holding his breath, still focusing his magic until, eventually, a bone appeared in his palm. It was small and uneven, but he made it. When it formed, Sans let out a breath, the flame dying down until both eye lights returned to their normal size and color. He sagged against Gaster’s hand, lifting the bone up to him. 

It took him considerably longer than normal and seemed to take a far higher toll. Gaster touched the bone, feeling the one point of damage barely pinch his HP. Gaster picked up the little scanner and read its readings. While summoning the bone, Sans’s stability had dropped down to forty, and now it was slowly rising back up to the sixty it comfortably rested at. 

Sans yawned, curling into Gaster’s side. 

“You can go back to sleep,” he said, confident he wouldn’t dust beside him. Sans nodded into his side, tucking and curling, clearly tired from using his magic. 

Holding his son in his arms, alive and breathing, weak magic pulsing through his bones, Gaster tried to think of answers. He watched the monitor, eyeing the one HP raising past it’s pitiful maximum as Sans dozed. 

The DT put him back together, but more wouldn’t make his magic any easier to use. No, he needed something else. There had to be another answer. Soul and magic deficiencies were uncommon but not unheard of. He worked with many doctors that had emphasis in that field that could help them. 

What did matter was that Sans wasn’t in any danger right now. Gaster could find the sense to be grateful for that. And, right now, that was all he needed.


End file.
